


The Long Way Back Home

by arthurmorgan-s-heart (Silverblind)



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Morning Sex, Smut, Spoilers, Vaginal Sex, very light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:41:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22501147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverblind/pseuds/arthurmorgan-s-heart
Summary: You convince Arthur to take a well-earned rest after his return from Guarma.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 108





	The Long Way Back Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is a request fill from my tumblr blog. Uploaded here for convenience - find me on tumblr - arthurmorgan-s-heart
> 
> Original request text: "Hi! So I've just finished the Guarma part again and thought about how a reunion between arther and his love might go. I know Out of Patience began as angry sex but I found it so passionate! In my mind Arthur is tired, skinnier than normal, feeling broken & after maybe bathing him off she and him have that "have to make sure you're real" *mega* touch starved type sex. Pet names, reassurances, grabbin, clingin, emotional and all together smutty goodness 😂 Too much!?! Haha *shrug* not ashamed! 😜"
> 
> This ended up being really long, and I don't know why.

_ Alive. _

It's the only thought your mind can form as you hear Abigail's shout from outside, announcing Arthur's return. Cries of joy and relief erupt around you as people move toward the door to greet him, but you're frozen in place, the overwhelming fear and grief that had hung over you for the last several weeks suddenly draining away, leaving you more exhausted than you've ever felt

_ Alive. _

As you stand there, unable to take a single step forward, a gentle hand lands on your shoulder as Mary Beth moves in front of you, meeting your eyes. She smiles warmly, squeezing your shoulder encouragingly.

"Come on," she whispers as she gently pushes you forward. Your legs feel stiff and heavy as you slowly walk towards the door leading outside, which seems miles away. But before you know it, you're there, and Mary Beth pushes it open.

Lakay's air is as disgustingly thick and humid as ever as you step outside, but, for once, you don't notice. Your eyes snap to where the rest of the gang had gathered, surrounding the familiar silhouette of someone you had almost given up hope of ever seeing again.

_ Alive. _

Your knees almost give out when you see him. He's filthy and gaunt and looks like he hasn't slept in weeks, but he's smiling, and laughing, and  _ alive. _

You're frozen again, staring at him in disbelief, half-convinced that you're dreaming - it wouldn't be the first time. But Mary Beth ushers you closer, and you see him turn his head to look at you - any doubts you had as to the reality of this moment fall away as soon as you meet his eyes, the people surrounding you eclipsed from existence, your world narrowing down to a single point. The crowd around him parts, and you see him move toward you - you shake off Mary Beth's gentle grasp, intent on doing the same, but your legs give out, and you fall to your knees in the mud, feeling all the strength you'd held onto all these weeks leave you suddenly. But then Arthur is there, lowering himself to kneel in front of you, drawing you into his arms, warm and comforting and safe and  _ God _ , you feel like you can breathe for the first time in what feels like years.

You feel tears stream down your cheeks as you bury your face in his shoulder, bringing your arms up around him, pressing him as close to you as you possibly can as he pets your hair and kisses your temple, the familiar feeling of  _ him _ almost overwhelming.

"It's okay, darlin'," he breathes against your ear. "I'm here, I'm okay. I ain't never gonna leave you again."

You open your mouth to answer, but you can only nod, your throat thick with tears.

_ Alive. _

_ Home. _

* * *

The week that follows passes in little more than a blur - between other gang members returning, the Pinkertons' attack, and the move further East, you and Arthur barely have time to talk. He's exhausted and just about ready to fall apart, you can see it plain every evening, when he stumbles into your shared tent and falls into bed without even taking the time to change out of his clothes. He desperately needs to rest, you know that - but whenever you bring up the idea of taking a day or two for himself, Arthur is quick to reject it.

"Can't do that, sweetheart," he answers every time, taking your hand and lacing his fingers through yours. "Not now. Too many things ridin' on all of this."

You understand; really, you do. But you know that he won't be able to do this much longer - sooner or later, he'll shatter, and you may very well lose him again.

For good, this time.

So when he comes back that night, so tired that he can barely stand, you wait for him to take off his jacket and let himself fall onto the bed on his back before you go sit next to him. His eyes are already closed when you lower yourself on the mattress, but you see him crack one open when you lay your hands on his chest, reaching for the buttons of his shirt. You stay silent a moment, gathering your courage as you try to not let your nerves get the better of you.

"Gonna go to Strawberry tomorrow," you say, matter-of-factly, slowly working the buttons free. You can feel him looking at you, but you keep your eyes down, focused on your task. "You and me."

"What for?" He asks, unable to mask the weariness that edges his every word.

"Rest," you say, as firmly as you can, and you feel his chest rise beneath your hands in a deep sigh.

"Darlin', you know I - " he starts.

"Please," you cut him off, abandoning the buttons of his shirt to lay your palms flat against his chest, finally looking up to meet his eyes. You feel your throat tighten as tears sting at your eyes, but you swallow them back. " _ Please _ , Arthur. For me."

You see him open his mouth to speak, his eyes flicking away as his words seemingly fail him, only looking back to you after a long while. He brings his hand up to brush a few strands of hair from your face before cradling your cheek.

"Alright," he answers quietly, and you feel the tension in your body slowly melt away as you lean into his touch. "For you."

* * *

You leave early the next morning, before anyone can stop you, slipping away with nothing but a knowing smile from Sadie, standing guard at the edge of camp. You ride in amiable silence for most of the day - it's good to be together again, just the two of you. As the hours pass, and you get further and further away from the camp, tension seems to drain from Arthur’s shoulders, little by little, as if a weight was being slowly removed from him. When you stop next to a small stream around noon, to let the horses rest and eat a bit of food, you sit next to him on the grass, and he looks at you and smiles, for the first time in what seems like years.

* * *

It’s late in the afternoon when you ride into Strawberry, and the sun is already starting to set behind the mountains, shrouding the town in the blue gloom of early twilight.

The hotel is mercifully empty, and you quickly arrange for a room and a bath while Arthur is outside, hitching your horses. He comes in just as you finish talking to the clerk, and you make your way upstairs together. He opens the door to the room for you, and you can’t help a pleased hum at the sight of the bed, drawing a small chuckle from him - it would be good to sleep in a real bed for once, instead of the thin, positively ancient mattress you shared with Arthur in camp.

You turn to face him as he takes off his coat and hat, laying them down on a chair next to the door before stepping closer to take your hands in his.

“I’m sorry, darlin’,” he starts quietly. “For everythin’. Things’re hard right now - “

“It’s okay, Arthur,” you cut him off, freeing one of your hands to cradle his cheek. “I understand. I’m just worried. With everythin' that's happenin'... I can’t...”

You close your eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath, exhaling slowly as you open them again. He looks at you with soft eyes, placing a hand on your hip as he draws you closer.

“I know,” he answers, turning his head to kiss your palm. “But we’re gonna be okay."

You could have believed him but for the slight catch in his breath and the shadow of doubt that flickered across his face when he spoke, but you opt not to say anything, simply allowing him to lean in and press a soft kiss to your lips as you will yourself to forget the events of the last few months, if only for a few hours.

“Come on,” Arthur says after a few moments as he pulls away, leading you toward the door. “‘Fore that bath gets cold.”

“I ain’t goin’ in there with you, I can't,” you say warily as he pushes the bedroom door open, stepping out onto the empty floor. He looks back at you, flashing you a teasing smile and letting go of your hand as he opens the door to the bathing room. A cloud of warm steam washes over the both of you.

“I ain’t gonna tell no one if you don’t,” he replies as he steps inside. Then he turns to you, holds out his hand, and adds, softly - “Please, darlin’.”

You feel yourself flush, your eyes darting around the deserted room before you reach for his hand, and he quickly pulls you inside, shutting the door behind him.

“What if someone comes in?” You ask nervously, turning your head toward the door, and he laughs quietly as he shrugs his suspenders off his shoulders.

“Be a pretty strange place if they barged in without even askin’,” he says, reaching up to unbutton his shirt, looking down to undo the first few buttons before he looks at you again. “‘Sides,” he adds, abandoning his task to bring a gentle hand to your cheek, making you look at him, “you don’t have to do anythin’ you don’t wanna. I just - “ his thumb traces your cheekbone, and you relax slightly under the tender touch. “Don’t wanna waste any time we have together, is all.”

You feel that there’s something left unsaid there, something he knows that you don’t, but the feeling sways at the edge of your consciousness, gone in half a moment, and you stay silent, instead bringing your hands to his shirt to pick up from where he had left off, slipping the buttons free one by one as you look up at him with a warm smile.

“Alright,” you breathe, leaning up to kiss his lips lightly. He answers with a smile of his own, and reaches one hand up to squeeze yours reassuringly before he allows you to continue your work.

You help him undress, slowly, uncovering the still-healing scrapes and bruises he had sustained in Guarma - the worst of them had been taken care of, of course, but there had been little time to see to the more minor ones, and you hadn’t quite realised how  _ many  _ there are. When he’s finally bare before you, you feel tears well in your eyes at the sight of his bruised body, seemingly every inch of him marred by an injury of some sort.

“Arthur…” you whisper, your hand covering your mouth. You feel him touch your shoulder, and you wrench your eyes away from his body, dragging your gaze back up to his face. 

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he breathes. “Alive. That's all that matters.”

You stay still for a long time before slowly nodding, swallowing back your tears as you watch him step into the tub. He lowers himself into the hot water with a satisfied grunt, and you come sit next to him on the rim of the tub as he quickly dunks his head under the water, scrubbing through his hair for a few seconds before coming back up, wiping a hand over his face with a relieved sigh.    
“Missed this almost as much as I missed you while I was in that goddamn place,” he says, and, despite everything, you laugh, swatting his shoulder lightly. He smiles, catching your hand in his and bringing it to his lips to brush a kiss against your knuckles.

“I don’t - “ you start - but you almost choke on your words when someone knocks at the door, snatching your hand away with a startled yelp.

“Need some help in there?” a feminine voice asks from the other side of the door in a sickly sweet tone, and you hear the doorknob rattle as someone grips it from the outside.

“No, I’m alright,” Arthur shoots back, looking up at you with an amused smile, and you shake your head, giving him a half-panicked, half-reproachful look.

“Well, you let me know,” the voice says, and you release the breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding as the woman on the other side of the door turns and leaves.

“Should’ve expected that,” he says once the sound of retreating footsteps has faded. You huff out a laugh despite yourself, and you allow him to take your hand when he reaches out again, bringing it back down towards him so he can kiss your palm and nuzzle at the soft skin on the inside of your wrist. The remnants of your anxiety melt away under his gentle touch, and when he looks back up at you, you can’t help a small smile. You turn to angle yourself toward him as you free your hand from his grasp, instead lifting his arm above the water slightly as you start to bathe him. He watches you in silence for a moment, as if surprised, before his free hand reaches up to rest at the side of your neck, making you look at him. 

“You don’t have to,” he breathes, even though he makes no effort to pull away.

“I want to,” you reply, leaning forward to kiss his lips lightly before resuming your work. You wash his arms, then his chest and his legs, before moving on to his back, standing behind the tub as you press against the tight knots you feel at his shoulders and neck. His eyes are closed, and you could have thought him asleep but for the loud groan he gives at each new point you find, leaning into your touch as you work your way down his spine.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says when you’re finally done, giving you a smile as you come back to sit on the edge of the tub. “You were right. Needed this. Should’ve listened to you from the start.”

His eyes flick away, and you see him open his mouth to say more, though he hesitates for a long while before speaking.

“Just - Things - Things’re happenin’ that I don’t like. Bad things,” he starts, and he suddenly seems more lost than you’ve ever seen him before. “And Dutch’s just... lettin’ ‘em happen. Somethin’ ain’t right. Ever since Hosea - “

He chokes on the name, and you reach out to take his hand, lacing your fingers through his, squeezing tight. Arthur isn’t one to shy away from death - of course - , but the loss of one of the men who had pulled him from a life of misery had hit him harder than he had let it seem, and with everything that had happened since then, there had been little time to grieve. He brings your hand to his mouth, kissing your fingers lightly as he lowers his head.

“I know,” you say quietly, you free hand coming to thread through his hair, still damp from the bath. Your throat tightens at the next few words, but you say them all the same. “We’re gonna be okay.”

How many times had you heard him say this over the years? And it had always been true. But somehow, this time, there is a veil of finality hanging over every choice that Dutch makes for the gang, and when you say the words, they sound hollow and false in a way that they never had before.

You’re not sure how long you stay like this, but by the time Arthur lets go of your hand, the water of the bath is barely lukewarm. He stands and steps out of the tub, murmuring a quiet thanks when you hand him the towel, drying himself quickly.

“I’ll go downstairs,” you tell him as he starts to dress himself. “Pay for a bath for myself. I’ll be quick.”

“Want me to stay?” he asks with a small smile - there are still shadows lurking behind his eyes, but you laugh anyway, leaning in to kiss his cheek before stepping toward the door.

“I’m sure I don’t need to answer that,” you say, and he chuckles lightly as you leave the room.

By the time you’re done with your own bath, night has long since fallen. When you go back to the room, you half-expect to see Arthur still up and awake, waiting for you - but you open the door, and the room is dark and still, Arthur's deep, even breathing the only sound to be heard. You move as quietly as possible, closing the door behind you before toeing off your shoes to tiptoe to the empty side of the bed, undressing on the way until you're only in your chemise and drawers. You throw back the covers before slowly lowering yourself to sit on the edge of the bed, turning to look at him for a moment - in the dark, you can almost pretend that you’re back to the beginning, before Blackwater, before everything. In sleep, he doesn’t have that permanent crease of worry between his brows, and the tension in his shoulders has disappeared. You slowly lay down next to him, as carefully as you can, and when you pull the covers over you, you feel his arm around your waist, drawing you back against him - you can’t help a quiet gasp of surprise, your hand snapping to his wrist and gripping tight. He whispers a sleepy apology as he kisses the nape of your neck, curling himself around you and burying his face in your shoulder before seemingly immediately falling asleep again. You release his wrist, fingers stroking the back of his hand as you close your eyes, focusing on Arthur’s warmth around you, the rhythm of his breath, the feeling of his chest against your back, lifting and falling, again and again, until you feel yourself start to drift off, and you finally let sleep take you.

* * *

The room is still dark when you open your eyes again, the birds outside having barely begun to sing. You squint into the darkness, your sleep-addled mind taking a few moments to remember where you are. You feel Arthur behind you, his arm still loosely wrapped around you, and you smile - lately, in camp, you usually woke alone, no matter the hour, Arthur somehow always managing to slip away without waking you, gone on some errand or another to try and keep the fraying strands of the Van der Linde gang together. Him being here, now, with you, reminds you of happier, easier times - but it’s too early to dwell on that, and you burrow further into the blankets, willing yourself back to sleep. You could have succeeded but for the feeling of Arthur shifting behind you, his hold around your middle tightening slightly as he brings himself closer to you. You feel his lips brush against the side of your neck, trailing up until he’s right below your ear - his stubble tickles you slightly, and you squirm and squeak in protest. He lets out a quiet, rumbling laugh as he moves back down toward your shoulder, this time pressing a few hot, open-mouthed kisses along his path. You can’t help the shiver that wracks through your body as he kisses your skin, or the audible hitch in your breath when he unwraps his arm from around you to come grip the high point of your thigh, pulling your hips back into his and making his intentions clear. You feel heat bloom low in your stomach - it seems like years since he’s touched you this way, and to have him against you again, like this, feels almost electric. You reach down to cover his hand with yours as you feel his knee nudge your legs apart, pushing higher and higher until his thigh is nestled between yours, and you grind yourself against it almost reflexively, gasping at the small sparks of pleasure that run up your spine with every motion. There’s a groan from behind you as you move, low and deep, and you turn your head to look at him when he pulls away from your neck, instead propping himself up on one elbow as he finds your mouth, kissing you deeply. His hand slides out from under yours as he reaches down to find the hem of your chemise, bunching his hand into the fabric as he pulls it up high enough to uncover your stomach, pressing his palm against it - his hand feels molten against your bare skin, every sensation heightened by weeks of yearning and waiting and hoping. He lingers there for a moment before moving higher, his fingers brushing almost imperceptibly over your skin as they trace an agonizingly slow path upwards, and you sigh against his mouth when you finally feel him cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple as you arch into his touch. You’re still moving against his thigh, and he slowly joins in your motion, lazily rolling his hips into yours as his mouth trails down to your neck again, his breath fanning over your skin as he holds you, tenderly, greedily, not daring to take his hands off you for a single second, as if you might disappear. You can feel him against the back of your thigh, a long line of heat pressed against you, and you open your mouth to speak, though you can only manage a pleading moan, your hand shifting to grip his thigh as he lifts his head to meet your eyes. He says nothing, but you know he understands, leaning down to kiss you as his hand leaves your breast, smoothing back down the length of your body, stopping at the waist of your underwear, pausing for a second before pushing past the cloth, his fingers finding your center.

“Sweetheart…” his voice is barely more than a growl as he touches you, slowly, carefully, as if afraid you might break. You whine quietly, grinding yourself down against his fingers as he presses soft kisses to your cheek. “Never thought I could miss someone as much as I missed you while I was on that goddamn island,” he whispers against your ear, letting you work yourself against his hand. “Thought about you every day. Every night. Didn’t care about nothin’ ‘cept comin’ home to you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as you feel your pleasure gathering at your core, reaching behind you until you can hook one hand at the back of his neck, anchoring yourself as he moves his fingers against you in just the way he knows will make you come apart.

“Still can’t hardly believe I’m here, sometimes,” he breathes, and you turn your head to bury your face into the pillow, smothering your moans. “Can’t hardly believe  _ you’re  _ here. But I never wanna leave you again.”

You break then, letting go of his neck to reach down and grip his wrist tightly as heat unfurls through your body, making you shudder and moan. He kisses your jaw, your neck, your shoulder, whispering quiet praise as he removes his hand from you, placing it low on your stomach as he holds you against him until the last of your pleasure has subsided. You feel him kiss the nape of your neck, and you take a moment to catch your breath before untangling yourself from him and rolling over to face him, your hand coming up to rest flat against his bare chest as you lean in to kiss him. You let your hand brush down the side of his neck, your fingers following the line of his collarbone before sinking lower, smoothing over his stomach, and lower still, until you feel him beneath your palm, warm and hard. You press against him for half a moment, just enough for a deep moan to escape him before you shift both of your hands to the waistband of his underwear, starting to tug them down. He’s quick to join you, his mouth still on yours as he pulls them down until he can kick them off, before doing the same for you, warm hands smoothing over your thighs once you’re bare. He parts from you then, pulling away just enough to meet your eyes as his hands shift to your hips, and you yelp in surprise when he suddenly pulls you on top of him. He laughs quietly at your wide eyes, and you can’t help a smile as you sit up, straddling him as you let him brush his hands up to take the bunched fabric of your chemise in his hands and pull it over your head, uncovering all of you to his eyes. For a moment, you almost feel as if you should be shy - it seemed like such a long time since he had seen you like this. But when his hands come to rest at your hips once more, his eyes raking over you as if seeing you again for the first time, you feel nothing but the sharp point of pleasure in your stomach at the knowledge that  _ you  _ were the one making him feel like this - and no one else.

“I missed you too,” you whisper, moving until you’re pressed against his length, and he moans, hands shifting to your thighs as his eyes flit down your body before coming back up to meet yours. You rock against him gently, reveling in the quiet gasps that you draw from him. “Don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come back.” You lift yourself off him, his whine of protest trailing off into a groan when you reach down to take him in your hand, stroking slowly. His hips buck upwards, and he heaves a shuddering sigh as you press him against you, so close to where you want him. “But you’re here now.” You gasp when you let yourself sink down on him, and you can’t help but close your eyes, basking in the familiar feeling of him inside you, of his hands on you. You wait a moment before rolling your hips, and you both let out a quiet moan, your hands splaying flat on his chest as you hold yourself up. “That’s all that matters,” you add in a breath before leaning down to kiss him as you set a slow, steady rhythm. He follows your motion, thrusting up into you almost lazily as he kisses you, the tight grip he has on your hips the only thing betraying how long he’d been waiting for this, just how starved he’d been for you - all of you. You bury his face in the crook of his neck, your hands gripping his shoulders as you hold yourself as close to him as you can, and he turns his head to kiss your temple.

“I’m here, darlin’,” he breathes against your skin as he angles his hips up, and there’s a sharp, sudden rush of pleasure that wrenches a loud moan from you, again and again with every motion of his hips. “ _ Here _ .”

There’s heat gathering in you core again, and you sit up, just enough to meet his eyes, holding yourself up with one hand next to his head while the other splays over the side of his neck, your thumb stroking the line of his jaw as you whisper his name over and over, bending down and down as your pleasure overcomes you, until you can press your forehead against his, and he’s whispering quiet words of praise when you come apart again, with barely a gasp this time, still thrusting into you, coaxing you through the waves of your pleasure, slowly, unhurriedly, until his rhythm starts to break, hips stuttering against yours as his breath hitches in his throat, and it’s your turn to speak in hushed tones, against the skin of his neck, quietly, soothingly.

“It’s okay, Arthur,” you breathe, and a moan claws its way out of his throat, one hand leaving your hip to smooth up your back until he can tangle his fingers in your hair. “It’s okay. Let go.”

And he does just that, shuddering apart with a few deep, slow thrusts, hips jolting against yours a few more times before he stills, pressing his lips to your shoulder as he catches his breath. You let a few moments pass by before you slowly move off him, lying down next to him, your hand lingering on his chest as your head rests against his shoulder. A few minutes pass by in silence, and you can hear birds singing outside - the sun is rising, and you know you’ll have to return to camp, to face whatever might come.

“What’s going to happen to us?” 

The words slip from your lips, unbidden, and you can hear Arthur’s breath hitch in his throat; you don’t dare look up at him, even when you feel his arm around your shoulders, holding you close as he presses his lips to the top of your head.

“I don’t know,” he answers, and you know it’s the truth - you know him too well to think that he would lie to you. “But I’m loyal to what matters. And that’s you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah I know Strawberry is fucking far for a bath but it's prettier than Valentine ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
